Chapter Eight

T he woman had been driving Carson insane since the moment he heard her name again. In mere hours, he went from ice cold to boiling hot for her, and damn if he wanted to slow things down.

A heavy pulse in his balls drummed to the beat of his heart as he slowly stripped Layne. Every inch of skin he exposed, he tasted with kisses and small nips that had her writhing under him.

When he took her taut nipple in his mouth, she arched. With a soft pull, he flicked his gaze up to her beautiful face. Her skin was cast in a faint glow from the light filtering through the bathroom door, her eyes were squeezed shut and her lips opened on a wide O of bliss.

As he swirled his tongue around and around the tight tip, he watched pleasure break over her face. His own need built. Passion heaped on top of the pyre, and when she dug her fingers into his hair, it was like she dropped a lit match.

"Carson! Yes!" She cupped her other breast, offering him a taste he couldn't resist taking.

Lifting his head, he moved to close his lips around her other nipple. It puckered on his tongue, and she let out a low moan.

Sliding his hand downward, he stroked her bare mound. The silky skin made his brain spin. Lust was one thing when he was young. He was old enough and seasoned enough not to lose his head to a woman.

But goddamn if he was able to rein in the obsession with Layne.

A plea escaped her lips as he eased a finger over the seam of her pussy, tunneling into the soaked warmth.

He needed to sink inside her.

Without warning, he plunged two fingers inside her. She cried his name and bucked into his hand, taking, taking.

Giving too.

Damn if he could hold back from her when they were in bed together. What happened outside these bedroom walls, he couldn't predict. But here…now…together…there were no restrictions.

Watching her face contort, he withdrew his fingers and slammed them deep inside her again. Her inner walls gripped and clenched. She moaned. Juicy sounds filled the room. Over and over again, he finger-fucked her, making sure to hit her G-spot on every…single…stroke.

When he felt the first tremor of her release, he surged up her body to claim her mouth right as her orgasm hit. Her body trembled, bowed. He curled his fingers into the spot that would drive her pleasure on and on.

Her lips opened in a silent cry, and he plunged his tongue inside her in sync to his fingers in her pussy.

Long seconds passed, his balls about to burst from withholding, but he wanted her to take the ecstasy he offered.

She collapsed, boneless and twitching.

Unable to stop himself, he went down between her thighs and licked up all the juices she'd just released for him.

"Oh my god!" She planted her palm on his head as he lapped at her quivering folds.

When he was satisfied—and had a tighter grip on his control—he stripped off his boxer briefs and slipped on protection. His cock jerked in his palm, and he gave it a slow jack.

Layne bit down on her bottom lip. Her eyes were wide and fixed on his hand.

He stretched out on the bed and pulled her on top of him. Age, time and distance from each other made them a lot better at this than their first attempts in their younger days.

She knew exactly what to do, straddling him. Palms braced on his chest, she rocked onto her knees. He gripped his stiff cock at the base and angled it toward her pussy.

As the flared head sank into her wet folds, their gazes locked.

Oh fuck. He was not here for emotions, but goddamn if he could keep them from her.

She squeezed her eyes shut as though she couldn't bear to look at him either and sank down over his cock, taking him all the way to the hilt.

A roar clogged his throat. He bit it off and flattened a palm on her spine, forcing her down on top of him. The sensation of her nude body and the tight grip of her pussy had him rocketing too high too fast.

She began to move, rocking in a rhythm he swore she premeditated to drive him out of his mind. Each time her sweet ass slammed downward, he swallowed her cry and fed her a growl in return. The sounds kicked him over the edge.

The first spurt blasted up, stealing his breath. The second and Layne moaned with him. The third, their mouths collided in a long, deep kiss.

After what felt like an hour, he returned to his senses.

The woman was under his protection. Cradling her head in his palm, he drew her down onto his chest.

There was no place safer than his arms.

* * * * *

With a huff of irritation, Layne tossed her phone onto the sofa cushion and stared off into space.

This was not what she imagined when she had Hannah clear her schedule so she could come to Wyoming.

Being stuck in the house for the past five days was driving her mad. She had Faye to talk to, and on occasion she crossed paths with Carson. But if she didn't know better, she'd think he was avoiding her.

Which was for the best. They couldn't sleep together again. Their past made the whole thing too tangled up and problematic. Besides, he was working for her. Providing security.

A vision of the painting sent by the unknown person rose in her mind. The colors and brushstrokes she'd once admired were now tainted with a threat. The painting came from a private collector. She'd been in this industry long enough to know that people locked down the names of buyers. In some cases, nobody knew who owned a piece until it came up for sale again decades later.

Carson had told her that Black Heart Security already contacted the seller. The painting wasn't stolen—money changed hands. Black Heart Security didn't get any further in their investigation, but since a crime was involved, they were hopeful that warrants and such could force the buyer to hand over the information.

Layne was so creeped out by it all. The questions never stopped either.

Had the buyer of the painting followed her to Golden Horizon? They might have been on the same flight.

He could have been in a seat close enough to watch her.

Skin crawling with the thought, she rubbed her hands over her upper arms to dispel the goose bumps.

Carson had confiscated the painting. Where had he taken it?

It still surprised her every time he shifted into bodyguard mode. He'd always been her protector in their youth—he vowed to always keep her safe. Neither of them ever guessed that a situation like this would crop up.

Bonus was that she did have a gorgeous former Navy SEAL within grabbing distance at all times.

But that was almost worse. What were they even doing? Sleeping together was only complicating matters. Sure, it offered a great distraction from her endless workload, not to mention the constant texts she was getting from people who knew she was back in Wyoming for a little while.

She'd received two phone calls from old friends of her family, inviting her to dinner and even to a summer party.

The longer she sat here, the more she wondered if she wouldn't be safer back in New York City.

By the time she heard Carson's footsteps advancing on the living room, her irritation level was at a high.

He stopped at the look on her face. "What's the matter?" He sliced a glance at the phone sitting on the cushion beside her.

"I didn't come to Wyoming to be stalked and trapped in my home."

He let out a sigh and sank to the seat across from the sofa. Elbows on his knees, he scrubbed his palms over his face. The years had been kind to him. The twitches of smiles he'd given her reminded her of the boy she'd known. But she also detected a new strain in his eyes.

She sighed and sat up straighter. "I'm sorry. You're doing all you can do, and here I am being a pain."

He studied her for a moment before sitting back, manly thighs spread in a natural fashion and one big forearm resting on the chair arm. "My brothers are working on it."

"How long do you think it will take to find out who sent the painting?"

"That depends on if you remember anything more that could help us. Give us a lead."

She racked her brain. The question had been on her mind every minute—except the ones when she was in bed with Carson—since it happened.

She shook her head. "I can't think of anything else at the moment."

"Understandable."

"I'm frustrated and annoyed. I've been in control of my life since I was a teenager and my father let me stay here at the ranch while he spent the Christmas holiday in Europe buying antiques."

His gray eyes told her exactly what he thought about her father leaving her for a whole holiday season to fend for herself. But she already knew—he'd voiced it on the phone to her back then.

"We spent every night on the phone." His tone grew wistful.

Each time he spoke that way to her, the leaves that had settled on the forest floor of her psyche stirred. At times like this, they blew away, leaving a bare spot of stark pain.

It had hurt that her father chose to spend the holidays without her. But she'd put on a brave face, and all her friends back in her New York prep school thought she was so worldly, staying alone in Wyoming.

Carson had worried about her. So much that he insisted that they stay on the phone even when asleep.

He really had been the best boyfriend a girl could ask for. Then he was gone, and she was left more alone than ever.

She had so many letters to read still. Rather than sitting here feeling sorry for herself, she should be in her study reading his words to her.

"You've been invited to a party. And to dinner."

She jerked her head up at his statement of fact.

"How did you—" Of course. He had access to her phone now. Even though he'd given it back to her, he could still read every message and tap every call coming through.

He spread his hands, each as wide as a plate. "I wish I could allow you to go. But it's too hard to protect you there."

She folded her arms, mind racing. "Is there any threat now? It's been days and nothing's happened."

"You're getting lulled into thinking that the threat is gone."

She turned her head toward the window. The draperies were drawn shut, closing off her view of the land she loved so much and dreamed about when she was away in other places.

"All I have is work, but not even that keeps me busy since everyone knows I'm on vacation." Her stare lifted to his. "And while you've been a nice distraction…I'm used to a bigger life."

"I get where you're coming from, Layne. Seriously, though. You can't think that a man who'd go out of his way to send you a painting that's worth a hundred thousand dollars, then made a trip all the way here just to snap a photo of your bedroom wall, would walk away so easy. I know I wouldn't."

But you did. She gulped back the words she knew now to be untrue. He'd only walked away after two years passed without a single word of reply or encouragement from her. Who could blame him?

"Don't downplay the situation, Layne. Let me do my job. I know what I'm doing."

"How did you get into the security business anyway? You said you were a SEAL."

When he shrugged, his bulky shoulders shifted as if his shirt felt too snug. All that sexy black cotton did stretch across them pretty tight…

"I took a few months off. I came back here with my family. I tried to ranch, but I got bored. I spent twenty years of my life protecting people. It's all I know."

You know my body pretty well.

"So you understand that what I know is being with people. I do enjoy solitude, but I'm feeling the strain of being housebound. Do you know the last time I felt this caged in?"

He cocked a brow. "2020?"

She uttered a laugh. "Yes! And now I can't even look outside without somebody telling me off about it."

His lips quirked at one corner. "It's for your own good."

She pushed out a sigh. "I know."

They fell into silence for a few long heartbeats.

"I have an idea."

Before she could get out the words to ask what that idea was, Carson shoved to his feet in a graceful sweep. The move was a cross between a street fighter and a predator, silent and stealthy.

When he took a huge step over the coffee table and landed in front of her, hand extended, she threw back her head with a surprised laugh.

"Come with me."